Broken Hearts Fit Best
by Kirsty Joy
Summary: Chloe is in charge of a Valentine's day party that is made complicated when the keys to the Talon are stolen. Clark joins her as she investigates, but he is no match for a teacher who can send people to sleep at will. S4 Chlark. Rated for drug mention
1. Chapter 1

This is an idea that wouldn't let me alone... set on Saturday, February 12, 2005... which - for those of you who have a life that doesn't revolve around Smallville - means that it's set right after "Recruit" and right before "Krypto".

Just because Chlark should have had a chance!

. . . .

"Just write your name on one of the cards and slip it into the appropriate box," Chloe ordered, giving three of the girls from the dance team the same instructions she had been giving everyone all day, "There is an optional dinner later in the evening for $25.00 a person."

"How's it going?" Clark asked, coming up as the girls finished and left.

"Good," she answered sarcastically, "I am soliciting guests for Lana's party when I could be finishing my story on the undercover drug community in the school. My money's on Mr Hoenas - how else would a literature teacher afford a brand new car? And all of those papers that I found that had traces of drugs on them were Shakespeare. After this is finished, I'm going to see if I can get an interview with Miss Trammer; as his ex she should be more than willing to tell me what she knows about him. Anyways, so far we have five more girls than boys for the party and school ends for the weekend in less than half an hour. Do you think that you could get some of your football buddies to sign up? At least for the free part?"

"I don't know, but I'll do my best," he said obligingly, "I should be able to get at least three, maybe four. In the meanwhile, you can write down my name. Did you know that she was on her way to Broadway before she met Mr Hoenas - after they began seeing each other, she quit her career and moved to Smallville. How's that for devotion?"

"Ouch," Chloe cringed, "No wonder she's been throwing daggers with her eyes ever since he dumped her for his new girl. Trouble is, Miss Trammer seems to have turned into a hermit ever since; it's going to be tough getting her to participate in an interview."

"I'll tell you what; after the party is finished I will help you track her down and get the interview."

"Thank you!" she said, flashing him her rarely seen megawatt smile, "Clark Kent to the rescue!"

"There," he put the paper with his name on it into the box, "Now, let me go see what I can do about the jocks."

. . .

Chloe sighed as she taped up the very last red and pink twisted streamers in the Talon late that night and climbed down the ladder. Lana and Jason had decided to host a Valentine's party at the coffee house, and had asked her if she would be willing to help decorate. Unfortunately, Lana had called her saying that something had come up at the last minute, so Chloe ended up doing the invitations, decorating, arranging the games, and planning the refreshments herself.

The only thing left to do was the creative way of choosing a partner for dinner. Taking the box of red paper hearts that Lana had left on the stairs (one for every two guests), she quickly began cutting them in half - with a variety of swirls and zigzags and make them unique. Setting aside one half of each in the boy's pile, she dumped the other halves into a box marked 'girls' and set a marker next to each; they would just have to choose a half and then write their own name on it.

Shutting off the lights and grabbing her purse, Chloe locked the doors and hurried to her car, telling herself that next time someone wanted to host a party she would only agree to attend as a guest. Shivering as she drove home slowly through the unexpected whiteness of newly fallen snow, she wished that she had grabbed a coffee before she left as she could feel herself starting to fall asleep. In fact, she was so very tired, that her eyelids began to close and by the time her car began to drive off of the road she was fast asleep.

A moment after her car ploughed to a stop in the snow drifts, a dark figure opened the door and grabbed the keys to the Talon out of her purse before disappearing into the night.

. . .

Chloe groaned and raised her aching head from the steering wheel, blinking at the clock which brightly told her that it was 1:13 AM - only one minute later than it had said the last time her weary eyes had glimpsed it, seconds before she had given into the exhaustion that seemed impossible to resist. Sighing she rested her forehead against the cool wheel again, feeling slightly drugged. Less than a second later, she felt the car being forcibly dragged back onto the road and glanced in the side mirror to see Clark pulling the automobile out by the back bumper. Cosing her eyes, she pretended to be still asleep as he came around and yanked the door open.

"Chloe!" his worried voice exclaimed as he undid her seat belt and pulled her out with a speed that equaled his exhibition the night only a few weeks before when Alicia had privately 'outed' his secret to Chloe without his knowledge.

"Clark?" she blinked, yawning in spite of herself.

"What happened?" he asked, only partially relieved to find out that she was apparently uninjured.

"I don't know," she admitted, the night air waking her up fully, "I just remember feeling really tired and wanting to go to sleep."

"You should be more careful," Clark admonished, his eyes betraying his concern, "If you had been near a tree or a telephone pole... you could have been killed!"

"But I wasn't," she reminded him, beginning to shiver, "Now, you may enjoy long midnight walks in the freezing cold, but I am ready for bed." she paused, wondering if she should offer or not and then deciding that if she didn't mention the fact that he was a ways from his home in the middle of the night it would seem suspicious, "Do you want a lift home, or would you rather continue your walk?"

His eyes widened slightly but he shrugged. "I'll continue my walk," he nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets, "You shouldn't drive any more than you _have_ to tonight. Now be careful! And if you feel like taking another nap, pull over and put the car in park first."

. . .

The next morning, Chloe searched frantically through her purse in search of the keys to the Talon. Though it was not her usual way to spend the hour between 6-7 AM on Saturday morning, she had been woken up by a nightmare that she had lost the keys to the Talon and Lana had turned into some evil creature and had tried to kill her. The adrenaline coursing through her veins had been more effective than caffeine in waking her up quickly and propelling her out of bed to reassure herself that she really did have the precious pieces of metal that had been lent to her by the part-owner of the Talon.

Finally satisfied that the keys really were missing, Chloe hurriedly pulled on a pair of jeans, threw her coat on over her pajama shirt and drove out to where she had run off the road the night before - hoping that the keys had fallen when Clark had pulled her out of the car. Reaching the spot, she parked and jumped out of the car, searching the ground thoroughly. It didn't surprise her that hers were the only set of tire marks; not many people drove that road between 1 and 7 in the morning. After spending much more time than she needed to survey the ground, Chloe started to head back to her car in discouragement. Getting in, she sighed and started the engine, prepared to drive back when suddenly her eyes became glued to the snow off of the side of the road. Jumping out of the car, she hurried over and inspected the imprints curiously, a suspicion now firmly in place.  
Sure enough, there were foot prints beside the tire tracks where neither her nor Clark had stepped. Nodding grimly to herself, she began following the prints through the snow, leaving her car and trekking cross country.

. . . .

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	2. Chapter 2

Clark finished his chores and breakfast in less than five minutes and sped to Chloe's house. He wanted to make sure that she had arrived home safely the night before, but was not planning on talking to her - just to ascertain that her car was in the driveway. When he arrived and discovered that her car was gone, the possibility that she may have left again before 7:30 AM did not occur to him until he had gotten thoroughly anxious... then, just before he left to search for her, he noticed the tire tracks in the driveway. Staring at them in relief and curiosity, he debated whether or not to follow them. Making up his mind, he went back to the farm and got the truck, driving down the road until he came to Chloe's parked car. Getting out, he followed her tracks towards town - arriving at the Talon less than a minute later.

. . .

Chloe peeked into the windows of the Talon after trying the front door. Of course, there was very little to see as she had drawn the blinds the night before; so after a few moments she headed around the building to try the back door. Turning the knob did no good; it was securely locked just like it should be off hours.  
She gritted her teeth in annoyance and jiggled the knob as hard as she could, hoping that the lock would slip - or at least break - and let her in.

A second later were footsteps crunching in the already melting snow. Whirling around she came face to face with Clark and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Clark," she smiled, "You want to come over here and give me a hand with this?"

Walking over he shook the knob slightly. "It's locked." he looked at her questioningly.

"I know," rolling her eyes, "I wouldn't be asking you to help me break into the Talon if it wasn't. Now just do it a little harder; you're a lot stronger than I am... just get us in."

Clark raised a worried eyebrow in her direction, "What do you mean?"

"It's a biological fact, Clark," she grinned, "95% of the time, men are stronger than women. And now that I've given you the compliment of asking for your help, maybe you could oblige by putting some of that macho strength into breaking the doorknob?"

"Chloe," he glanced around, "Do you have any idea how much trouble we could get in for breaking into the Talon?"

"Fine," she held out her hand expectantly, "Do you have a spare hairpin? Skeleton key? Other idea? I have to get into the Talon... last night when you found me on your midnight stroll I had just come from locking up here and this morning I discovered that I no longer have the keys. I want to make sure that nothing got stolen."

"Well, did you retrace your steps on your way to your car from the door?" he asked sensibly, nodding in the direction of the front of the building when she shook her head, "Let's start there."

"Fine!" Chloe sighed, "And then will you help me break in?"

"No, then we'll call Lex and ask him to let us in," Clark told her, "If you break in and something was stolen, the evidence would point to you and you could be arrested."

"Alright," Chloe agreed, "I parked on the other side of the street. You start at the front doors and I'll go over to where I parked and we'll work towards each other."

. . .

Walking slowly across the parking lot, Chloe scanned around the parking space which her car had occupied the night before.

"Find anything?" Clark asked, coming up behind her.

"No," she straightened up and glanced at him, "I assume that, since you asked, you didn't find them either?"

He shook his head and looked around the parking lot. "Wait," he exclaimed, striding in a couple more spaces and bending down, "Look!"

Chloe stared at the keys dangling from his fingers in surprise, "That is so weird..."

"You're welcome." he grinned, handing them to her.

"Thank you. No," she looked around, her forehead creasing thoughtfully, "I parked right in front of that sign. I remember because it was snowing and I arrived here after 8:00 and was going to be here for a couple of hours so I parked in the Handicap space. I distinctly remember hoping that Sheriff Adams had gone home early."

"Maybe you kicked them by mistake and they skidded away." Clark shrugged, "Now let's go and _unlock_ the Talon so you can check whatever you wanted to."

"Wait," Chloe exclaimed, hurrying over to where he had found the keys and crouching down to get a better look, "Clark! These are the same type of footprints that were next to where my car drove off of the road. See? They're completely smooth; no tread whatsoever. Come on; let's follow them! We can look in the Talon later - there's plenty of time before this evening and these footprints will be gone soon; the snow is already melting."

"Something tells me I'm going to wish that we looked around the Talon first..." Clark muttered, following Chloe as she hurried across the parking lot, eyes intent on the ground.

. . .

After following the footprints for almost half an hour, they came to an old abandoned farm house in the middle of a field; their search at an end as the snow was all but gone by now.  
Looking at Clark with a shrug, Chloe walked up the rickety steps and opened the door, entering slowly.

"Hello?" she called, looking around at the cobweb infested interior, "Anyone here?"

After a few minutes, Clark put his hand on her arm, "There's no one here. Let's go back to the Talon."

"Alright," she agreed, following him to the door, "But while we're here we may as well take a look around the property."

"Okay," he sighed dubiously, "If you really want to."

Chloe started towards the barn energetically, but her steps slowed as she approached the door.

"What's wrong?" Clark asked, curious as to why her enthusiasm seemed to be waning.

"Nothing," she yawned, her eyes trying to close in spite of her efforts to stay awake, "I think I should have taken the time to grab my morning coffee; that's all..."

A moment later Clark felt it as well; weariness seeping through his whole body, into his very bones. The sweet call of sleep beckoned to him irresistibly. Even as Chloe stumbled and then sank to the ground and his mind screamed at him that something was wrong, he couldn't resist the temptation to close his eyes and give in to the warm darkness that enfolded him.

. . .

It was cold. And the substance beneath her cheek was gritty and slightly damp. Blinking, Chloe shivered herself awake and sat up, observing her surroundings. She was in what appeared to have been a storm cellar, but was now filled with various debris. A workbench stood in one corner, cluttered with brown pods, an old toolbox, metal instruments, brilliant green powder, and little, green, clay-like balls. A box on the corner of it appeared to be crowded with money - 5, 10 and 20 dollar bills. Next to it was a small box that Chloe recognized with a start as the green meteor rock place card holders - they were to be paired with red roses on the table.  
Over on her right, Clark groaned and opened his eyes slightly, looking incredibly sick. Chloe began to get to her feet to go to him, but was stopped by the sound of a gun being cocked.

"Stay where you are," a voice ordered, "Sit down."

Turning slowly, Chloe narrowed her eyes. "Miss Trammer?" she exclaimed, staring at the dance teacher in astonishment.

"Yes?" the woman asked, smiling grimly and holding her gun steady, "Would you like to chat with Smith & Wesson and me before you sit down?"

Taking the hint, Chloe held up a restraining hand and sat down slowly, "I'm sure that they agree with you; it appears that I'm outnumbered."

"You'll never get away with this," Clark's voice sounded choked and surprisingly pained and fragile, "Everyone knows where we are."

Miss Trammer laughed, a horrible mirthless sound, "Do you really expect me to believe that you told the police - or even your parents - where you were going? You two always seem to think that you're one step ahead of the law enforcement officers. Well, in this case you are - but it's not in your favor. In this case I hope that you're correct and that it'll be quite some time before the police find your bodies along with a gun with fingerprints belonging to Jack Hoenas."

"You've been planting that evidence..." Chloe guessed, speaking slowly and watching the other woman's reaction, "The Shakespeare papers torn from Mr Hoenas' book that seemed as though they must have been wrapped around various drugs."

"Good job," Miss Trammer nodded approvingly, "Someday you're going to make a great reporter... Oh, wait - you _would_ have made a great reporter. Too bad you're never going to make it to 'someday'."

"You have a meteor power, don't you?" Chloe crossed her arms and raised one eye as a hunted look appeared in the dance teacher's eyes for a split second before it was masked with the cool indifference that seemed to pervade her entire body, "Did it ever occur to you that I might have been killed when you made me fall asleep at the wheel?"

"What a shame," she tilted her head, "That would have saved me all this trouble."

"Why did you take the meteor rocks from the Talon?" Chloe asked curiously, ignoring her jab, "Petty theft seems pretty ridiculous for someone who is so obviously making a killing - I didn't mean it that way - selling drugs."

"Opium is difficult to get," the dancer shrugged, "I started mixing it with meteor rock to make it go further, but soon I discovered that the green meteor rock not only blends in perfectly; it intensifies the high to a point that you only need a minuscule amount of opium to get the original effect and you don't run the risk of overdosing because you don't need as much of the actual drug."

"And you found this out by trying it yourself?" Chloe questioned, observing the woman's overall appearance.

"No, miss nosy," annoyed, she drew her lips together tightly, "I found out by observing my customers."

"Heroin." Clark stated, looking as though he were experiencing tiny spasms throughout his body.

"What?" Miss Trammer's face went white and she looked at him with something akin to fear.

"You're addicted to Heroin." Clark shivered, wondering how much longer he had with the meteor rock just across the room, "Once having used it, a person loses all motivation except to get more. That's why you're risking everything to sell Opium; you need extra money for the more expensive drug that you are taking."

"Heroin effects your cardiovascular and respiratory systems - reducing your physical and mental capacity." Chloe jumped in, "That's why you quit your ascending career - not because you loved Mr Hoenas; the more you took the more you lost your edge."

"I'm going to kill you," she snarled angrily, eyes flashing with more energy than she had exhibited the entire time, "But first, you're going to get really hungry. Now hold your hands behind your back and don't try anything funny; my hand gets shaky - I'm sure you understand - and I wouldn't want the gun to go off too soon."

Chloe's heart sank as Miss Trammer reached over and picked up a pair of police-style handcuffs.

"This isn't the only way," Clark gritted out, "We can get you help. There is hope for you."

"No, Clark," her voice almost had a tinge of sadness for a moment, "There isn't."

A moment later, Chloe found herself handcuffed to a weak and shaking Clark, listening to Miss Trammer climb the stairs and close the trap door. A moment later there was the faint sound of a padlock clicking shut.

. . .

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	3. Chapter 3

"Alright, Clark," Chloe nudged him, "Now is the part where you bust us out of here."

A pair of pained, worried eyes regarded her anxiously.

"I'll explain later. Just get us free from these cuffs," she urged pleadingly, "Please! I know that you are more than strong enough to break them."

Clark tugged at the cuffs, only succeeding in wiggling her wrist, and sighed in defeat, deciding that he would deal with her knowledge later - assuming they were able to get out. "I can't," he groaned, the words feeling like sandpaper in his throat, "It's killing me."

"What?" Chloe exclaimed, staring at him in wide eyed dismay, "What's killing you?"

"The meteor rock," he coughed slightly, glancing over at the glowing rocks and powder on the work bench, "I'm allergic. It's only because it's across the room that I've lasted this long."

"Oh my..." she could feel the blood draining from her face as she began to understand, "So if I don't get you out of here pronto, she won't _have_ to come back with that gun?"

"Basically." his hand felt strangely hot against hers, "The meteors don't bother me if they're encased in lead. But that doesn't do us much good."

"Great! Lead boxes don't exactly grow in storm cellars," Chloe groaned, putting her free hand to her forehead, "Now what?"

"I'm sorry," Clark seemed to be almost on the point of unconsciousness as his whispered voice reached her ear, "For not telling you. You were the best friend... I could ever... have... wanted..."

"No! Don't give up on me, Clark!" she exclaimed frantically, jumping to her feet and exerting her strength to pull him towards the work bench, fear for his life seeming to jumpstart her brain, "Hold on! I'm going to get rid of the meteor rock!"

A soft groan was the only answer as she grabbed both his arms and dragged him across the floor, knocking over various boxes on the way. His mention of lead had triggered something in her mind; the year before she had written a very boring filler piece for the torch on the history and danger of lead based paint - especially that the paint produced before the 1960s had a much higher concentration of lead than that which was produced after. The paint had been used on houses, walls, various toys, and... toolboxes.

"I know, I know," she panted, glancing at his face which almost seemed to begin bubbling - looking remarkably like boiling water - as they neared the workbench, "Don't let go! Please!"

Using all of her might to stand up straight - partially raising his body as she did so - she grabbed the box of meteor rocks and dumped it into the old yellow toolbox, followed by the paper containing the meteor dust. Slamming the lid shut, she sank to the ground and cradled his head in her lap, tears in her eyes as she looked at his now smooth and unresponsive face.

"Please," she whispered, stroking his face with her free hand, "Please come back. I need you, Clark. Your parents need you. The world needs you. You were meant for more than dying in a storm cellar."

There was no response, and his skin was now cool to the touch; a stark contrast to the burning heat of a few minutes ago.

"I love you." a tear dripped from her nose and splashed onto his cheek as she whispered the words.

A moment later, a small sigh proceeded out of his pale lips, causing her to catch her breath hopefully.

"Clark?" she questioned timidly.

"Chloe?" his voice was still quiet, but much stronger than it had been.

"You're awake!" though she never would admit it later, it must be said that she squealed the words with delight, "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," the words were confident and much stronger, "As soon as the sun touches me I'll be back to normal."

"Wait," Chloe looked at him curiously, "What am I missing here? You have meteor powers, yet the meteor rocks make you sick and now you need to get into the sun?"

"I'll explain everything when we get out of here," Clark sat up, as the color came back into his cheeks, "For now, let's focus on getting that door opened; I'm sure that the Sheriff will have a key for these handcuffs if there isn't one here, but in the mean time we're going to have to work together."

"Are you well enough to stand up?" Chloe asked, scrambling to her knees.

For an answer he rose slowly to his feet, pulling her up with him gently, before beginning the search for the tool that would give them a chance to get out of the cellar before Miss Trammer arrived.

A moment later, Chloe held up a tool that had apparently been used to scrape the pods, "Will this work?"

"It should," Clark nodded, a brief smile coming over his face, "Let's give it a try."

Making their way awkwardly across the small room and up the stairs, wrists stuck firmly together in the metal cuffs, Clark held the tool tightly in his free hand and threw his arm at the door with all of the strength he had. Tugging it loose, he paused for a moment, looking out of the hole as the sun shone through onto his face. Inhaling deeply, he straightened up and pushed the door open, easily breaking the exterior lock with his new found solar rejuvenation.

Climbing out, he easily forced open the cuffs, freeing both of their wrists.

"Wow," Chloe grinned, rubbing the reddened skin at the base of her hand gently, "I sure am glad that you decided to come back to the land of the living."

"Me too," he returned the smile, "Thank you for not giving up on me."

"Ah, well," she shrugged, her eyes betraying her pleasure at his words as they started back towards town, "You never would have given up on me; I was just returning the favor."

"Wait!" Clark stopped her, "Shouldn't we gather some of the evidence and bring it with us just in case Miss Trammer has time to come back and move her stuff out before we are able to convince the police to make the trip out here?"

"I can do better than that," Chloe reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone triumphantly, "I was recording her confession before she put the handcuffs on us."

"She was wrong about you making a great reporter _someday_," he smiled, "You're a great reporter _now_."

"_We_ are," she corrected, hoping that her face wasn't sparkling too much at the praise, "Someday we'll be star reporters for the Daily Planet... I'll be the senior partner of course..."

"You?" Clark raised an eyebrow, entering into her playful mood, "Please don't forget that I am at least several months older than you are."

"But I'm more mature," she said airily, "And more experienced. I must have written at least three times as many articles for the Torch as you."

"Well, we can decide later," he shook his head with a smile before becoming serious again, "Right now, what I really want to know is, how long have you known about me?"

"I guess I've always had my suspicions," she glanced up at him again, "The quick exits, the miraculous recoveries, the lame excuses... But I think when I saw you catch a car like it was a beach ball, that kinda confirmed everything."

His eyes met hers with something akin to horror. "Alicia?" he whispered, everything suddenly clicking into place, "That night on the She set me up?"

"Yeah, but don't blame her too much," Chloe put a hand on his arm, "She thought that your powers were keeping you from being yourself and if I were to tell everyone the truth than you would be free to be who you really are."

He was silent for a moment. "But you wouldn't, would you?" considering her background of exposing meteor freaks, his voice was surprisingly confident.

"Never," she shook her head soberly, her eyes earnest, "Your secret will never ever leave my lips. No matter what."

"I appreciate that. Why didn't you tell me that you knew?" Clark questioned, his voice betraying how vulnerable he was.

"I figured that if you wanted to tell me you were part of the superpowered persuasion, you would when you were ready," she explained gravely, "On your terms, not on mine."

"You're a good friend, Chloe." he put an arm around her shoulders in a side hug.

"Obviously not good enough." her disappointment showed through in spite of herself.

"There were so many times I wanted to tell you..." his voice, full of regret and uncertainty, trailed off.

"Clark, I don't blame you!" she shook her head returned the side hug, "Loose lips sink ships, and I know I've sunk my share of flotillas. Who else knows about you?"

"My parents... Pete..." he shrugged as they separated and then his voice took on a note of pain, "Alicia. You understand why I was afraid for anyone to know?"

"Of course," she nodded, "And I would die before I would ever betray you."

"Well, I hope that you would never have to make that choice," then his eyes warmed, "But thank you."

"There are a few blind spots though," Chloe said slowly, gauging his reaction to judge whether or not to continue, "Like why are you allergic to meteors? And how come you were blessed with two powers - strength and speed - when everyone else only has one?"

"Well, Chloe, there's a lot that even I don't understand about me..." his voice trailed off and he sighed, "Look, we're getting close to town. Let's deal with this problem and I'll explain later - I promise."

"I don't want to pry," she said quickly, "And if you'd rather not tell me, I'd understand. I'd be disappointed. But I _would_ understand."

"Thanks, Chloe," he nodded, "And I will explain - after we get this all worked out."

. . .

"You two stay here in town," Sheriff Adams ordered, checking her gun, "We're going to go have a look around."

"Be careful," Chloe warned, knowing how silly she was going to sound but needing to say it anyways, "Miss Trammer has a meteor power that allows her to make people fall asleep. She seems to be able to control how long the effects last."

"Thanks for the warning, but I'm sure we'll be fine."

As the Sheriff and two deputies left, Chloe turned to Clark, "Come on; let's find out more about Miss Trammer. There must be something we can do to keep her from using her powers. Right now she is an unbeatable force; the moment anyone gets to within so many yards of her... and it's off to dreamland."

. . .

"Look at this!" Chloe exclaimed, scrolling down as she quickly read the information on her computer screen, "Miss Trammer was born in Smallville. During the meteor shower she was hit and was brought to the hospital and put on morphine as they extracted some of the meteor rock that had become lodged in her chest."

"Heroin is synthesized from Morphine," Clark offered thoughtfully, bending down to read over her shoulder, his hand on the back of her chair, "Maybe the meteors began the process of changing morphine to Heroin and caused the drug to transfer some of it's effects into her body - making her able to cause sleepiness when it is in her body and causing her to become addicted. Her effect on her victims is probably the strongest when the drug is the most concentrated in her bloodstream."

"Opioids can be combated with Naloxone which works by completely reversing the effects," Chloe bit her lip, "It's a long shot, but perhaps if we can get a hold of Naloxone, and if we could inject Miss Trammer with it, maybe it would remove her ability to send everyone off to sleep?"

Clark nodded and shrugged, "It's worth a try."

"Okay, but we need a plan." Chloe pushed back her chair and stood up, tapping the desk thoughtfully with her fingers and then tapping his arm excitedly, "I've got it!"

. . . .

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	4. Chapter 4

. . .

"This is a stupid plan!" Clark whispered, wheeling the stretcher through the halls, "And this face mask isn't going to keep anyone from recognizing me! Besides, these scrubs make me feel dumb."

"Don't be silly!" Chloe pulled down the oxygen mask and glared up at him, "You look fantastic whether you're wearing a tux or diving apparatus. Now keep up your part of the plan! And be confident!"

"Nurse!" Clark exclaimed loudly - bossily - lowering his voice a few octaves, "I have an opioid overdose patient! I need Naloxone in a nasal atomizer right away!"

"Yes sir!" the woman disappeared and then hurried back, "You must be the specialist! Am I ever glad to see you, Dr Fresno! I'll administer the Naloxone; you go right down the hall to the eighth door on the right!"

Chloe's eyes widened and Clark stared at the woman, trying to think fast.

"Excuse me?" a woman's voice asked from behind them, "_I _am Dr Fresno and..."

"Lay still!" Clark whispered to Chloe as she lay on the stretcher. The moment the nurse turned around he grabbed the handful of stuff she had brought, pushed the stretcher hurriedly down the hall, turned a corner and, grabbing Chloe's hand and pulling her up, ran down to where their clothes were waiting.

. . .

"Whoa!" Chloe laughed in relief, "I can't believe you got through that nasal atomizer spiel sentence without a single pause!"

"The fact that we were pretending that your life was at stake had something to do with it," Clark admitted as they hurried across the street to her car, "I'm just glad that she didn't question my request; they usually only have nasal atomizers for use outside of a clinical facility. I'd hate to have to stick Miss Trammer with a syringe."

"She never would have noticed," Chloe shrugged, "And it probably would be easier than trying to get her to stand still for this; she's probably used to shooting up every couple of hours."

"Yes, but I'm not." Clark sighed, "I feel sorry for her; it must be terrible to need something so much that you would commit any kind of crime to get it and do anything to cover your tracks."

"That _would _be terrible," Chloe furrowed her brow, "Clark? If I ever get into something like that, just make me stop, okay?"

"You never would," he answered confidently, "You're too strong for that."

"No one is ever stronger than their worst fear," Chloe said slowly, shakily, "I don't know, Clark. If I let myself think about my Mom... There are some days when I would do just about anything to forget about it."

"Well, don't hold it inside," Clark reached over and took her hand gently, "Fears get much worse when they're bottled up inside of you. If you ever need to talk; I'm here. Don't ever let it get to the point where you want to give up."

"Okay," she sniffed, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over, and then laughed softly, "Oh, come on! Let's go take care of Miss Trammer. Where do you think she is?"

. . .

"Well, she's been here since we left," Clark observed as they peered down into the storm cellar where they had spent quality time together earlier, "Look."

Sheriff Adams and the two deputies lay on the ground, sound asleep. The workbench had been swept clean, the only thing left behind was an empty syringe that had apparently been used and tossed aside.

"Clark," Chloe looked worried, "If Miss Trammer has just taken the drug, her power will be..."

"Very strong?" her voice asked, slurring the words only enough for someone who knew what was going on to notice, "Put your hands up."

Turning around slowly with her hands in the air, Chloe swallowed hard at the sight of the gun that was trained on her.

"I was going to make you suffer a little more before you died," Miss Trammer said, "But right now, I think it's time for a little nap. A permanent nap."

As the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion filled the cellar, Clark fought it off and raced over to her side, using the Naloxone at lighting speed. She sneezed and then collapsed on the floor.  
Chloe, who had begun to sink to the ground in spite of herself, felt the sleepiness fade and straightened up, hurrying over to where Clark knelt next to the former dance teacher as Sheriff Adams stirred and mumbled something as she opened her eyes slowly.

. . .

"Well," Chloe sighed, glancing at her watch as they left the police station after seeing Miss Trammer locked away until her trial, "That was the longest Saturday morning I've spent in a long time. And I did it all without coffee!"

"I'm proud of you, Chloe," Clark laughed, "Now, how about if you come to my house for lunch and I'll enlighten you as to the rest of my secret?"

"That sounds great," she hesitated, "But are you sure that you want to tell me? I don't want you to feel like you have to."

"I'm not choosing to tell you because I think I have to, but because I want to," he smiled at her and squeezed her arm gently, "You're the one friend who I wanted to tell more than anyone. You're a special person, Chloe, more than you know."

"Okay," she grinned, a little embarrassed but obviously enjoying his words, "I feel better now."

. . .

Martha and Jonathan were shocked, and not entirely happy, when Clark informed them - with Chloe standing there - that he intended to tell her everything about himself and asked if they would help. They agreed, but Jonathan pulled Clark aside as Chloe helped Martha set the table for lunch.

"Are you sure that you want to do this, son?" he asked, looking at Clark searchingly, "This isn't something you'll regret? Think about Alicia."

"But this is Chloe, Dad," Clark answered, shaking his head, "I would trust her with my life."

"Good," Jonathan said seriously, "Because in sharing your secret you are trusting her with your life."

"It's the right thing to do," Clark raised his chin confidently, "And she can handle it; she's a pretty amazing person."

"It's your decision," Jonathan acknowledged, "I just would hate to see all of your years of building a 'normal life' go to waste."

"They won't," Clark assured him, "If anything, Chloe will help with that. Besides; she has known about at least a couple of my powers for a while, and I have never suspected. She's the most trustworthy person I know."

"Alright," Jonathan nodded, "But I think that you should tell her yourself; this is your secret and you don't need our help. Your mother and I will have lunch upstairs."

. . .

"You asked why I was allergic to the meteor rocks," Clark began, as they started their lunch, "The meteors didn't make me who I am."

"So you're saying you were born this way?" Chloe asked curiously.

"I wasn't born anywhere near Smallville." Clark licked his lips, considering how to state this.

Chloe raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"In fact, I wasn't born anywhere near this galaxy." he couldn't meet her eyes.

"Okay..." Chloe shifted in her seat and narrowed her eyes questioningly, "Okay, so that would then make you like an..." she paused, not sure if she could say the word.

"Yeah." he continued to avoid her eyes.

"Uh..." she looked at him with wide eyes, "But you... you look so..."

"Human?" he asked, finally meeting her eyes apprehensively, trying to read her face "I'm still the same person."

The words begged for reassurance, and Chloe tried to give it as the knowledge soaked in.

"Clark, I..." she searched for the words as she smiled softly, "I think you're so amazing! You save people's lives and take zero credit for it. To me you're more than just a hero; you're a superhero."

"Chloe..." he shook his head slightly.

"I'm serious, Clark," a note of earnestness in her voice, "If more humans were like you the world would be a better place."

A tentative smile spread over his face, getting wider as it was encouraged by the genuine one that answered him on her face. Reaching for her hand across the table, Clark squeezed it gently as his eyes warmed her soul.

The ring of her phone interrupted the moment, and she laughed as she answered it, feeling the loss of his hand on hers more than she would admit.

"What do you mean, they called in sick?" Chloe exclaimed, the smile disappearing off her face, "Don't they have backup? Yeah, yeah, I'll take care of it. No, of course I'm not mad. Yes, I understand; you'll explain when you get back. Okay. Bye."

"What was that all about?" Clark asked in concern at the look on her face.

"Oh, that was Lana," she sighed, "The caterer for tonight called in sick, her and Jason are not going to be back until Monday, and I'm in charge of the party _and_ the dinner tonight. Do you have any idea how hard it is going to be to find someone to cater on a Saturday night two days before Valentine's day? Besides, everywhere I know of requires at least 24 hours advance notice."

"I'll go get the phone book," Clark finally took the second bite of his lunch and chewed it quickly, "We can look in the yellow-pages. And don't worry; if we can't find someone I'm sure that Mom will have an idea."

. . . .

Lol, did you guys ever see the Lois and Clark where they try to get into a certain room in the hospital by putting Lois on a stretcher with a basket ball under her shirt? Ha! That was hilarious!

Reviews?


	5. Chapter 5

"Here," Martha shoved a mixing bowl and spoon into Chloe's hands, "Stir this until it's blended. Clark, start cutting up the vegetables and lettuce for the salad, please. I'm going to start on the bread."

"When you said that your Mom would have an idea," Chloe chuckled quietly as Martha hurried around the kitchen, "I didn't know you meant that she would offer to cater the event herself... with our help."

"What can I say?" Clark smiled, "She's never happier than when she's cooking for a crowd. And believe me; having help is her favorite thing."

"Hurry up, Clark!" his mother ordered, "Now that Chloe knows your secret, I would appreciate it if you would zip through that as quickly as possible and then get started on the lasagna."

Chloe couldn't help staring as he finished cutting up the vegetables and lettuce for an enormous salad in less than five seconds. "Wow," she grinned as he finished, "Where were you all those times my Dad made me stay in my room until I cleaned it? One time I actually spent an entire day up there; it was terrible! He did bring me food, and he relented after supper, but I never let my room get that bad again."

"I'm afraid that having Clark around wouldn't have done much good," Martha told her, looking at her son fondly, "He used to run around and stuff everything into his closet and then prop it closed with his bedside table when I came up to inspect."

"Mom!" Clark blushed, "I only did that twice! And I was really little!"

"Well, it made quite an impression when your closet door gave out," his Mom smiled and turned to Chloe, "He had stuffed everything in so fast and so strongly, that as I was looking around the door hinges fell off and everything spilled out."

"Dad was not happy," Clark remembered, "But that _was_ my first carpentry project that I was able to do all by myself."

Chloe just sat and stirred the batter as she listened, wishing with all of her heart that she had a real family - one that would tell embarrassing cute stories from the past, one that would live and argue together, one that would stick together through anything, one that would love forever. An involuntary sigh escaped her lips; sometimes she felt as though she had gotten an awfully short end of the stick as far as love went.

. . .

When the entire meal was finally ready, Clark and Chloe brought it to the Talon just 20 minutes before everyone was supposed to arrive.

As she gave the place a once over to make sure that she was satisfied with the decorations and atmosphere, she felt as though something were tugging at her mind. Reaching up to fix a balloon, she put a hand down to hold her shirt in place and then froze; suddenly realizing that she was still wearing her pajama shirt and jeans that she had thrown on that morning.

"What's wrong?" Clark asked, by her side in a moment.

"Nothing," she sighed and rolled her eyes, "Unless you count the fact that I'm still wearing my pajamas just minutes before my guests arrive expecting a semi-formal dinner and I don't have nearly enough time to go home and change."

"You know," he lowered his voice and sounded almost hesitant, "There are some advantages to being... special. If you want, I could... well, I could run you home and then bring you back when you finished. That would give you just enough time to shower and change before the guests arrive."

"Wow, um," she blinked, "Would you? That would be great!"

He picked her up slowly, as if trying to give her time to stop him if she changed her mind, and then there was a sudden rush of air and she found herself standing in her bedroom watching his retreating back as he walked downstairs at a normal pace.

"Whoa," she grinned, "That was amazing!"

. . .

After showering, Chloe quickly pulled out a satiny red blouse with a black belt and paired it with a black skirt and heels. Dressing as fast as she could, she hurried down stairs as she finished with the last button.

"Ready, Clark?" she called, breaking off as she caught sight of him sitting on the couch wearing a black suit with a red tie.

"Wow," he smiled, getting to his feet and seeming to search for the words, "You... you look beautiful, Chloe."

"Thank you," she could feel herself blushing, "You don't look so bad yourself."

"Well," he broke the silence before it became awkward, "We have about 5 minutes before the party starts; how about if we get going?"

A moment later they were walking into the back door of the Talon and turning on soft background music and dimming the lights in preparation for the party.

. . .

The evening was going well, the guests - mostly teens from Smallville High - seemed to be enjoying the different games and activities. When it was time for supper, the red paper hearts that Chloe had cut in half were greeted with much laughter and anticipation - as well as one or two disappointments - and the pairs found each other fairly easily.

Clark and Chloe served the dinner by passing the dishes around the table hand to hand - less formal, but much easier. After everyone was done eating, Chloe got the microphone.

"Alright," she said as the music got more noticeable, "I hope that everyone enjoyed their meal! It is now time for the dancing to begin. As a special thing for the first dance, I would like all of the gentlemen to ask the lady who owns the other half of his paper heart to dance. After that, feel free to dance with the one who owns your real heart. Thank you."

Clark was waiting for her as she stepped down and walked through the crowd.

"Nicely done," he smiled, "But I've run into a problem."

"What is it?" she asked in a tone of dread.

"I was so busy helping you make sure that everything was going well that I forgot to write my name on one of the halves of the hearts," he paused and held out the red paper with his name written clearly on it in black marker, "And now that I've done it, I can't seem to find the lady who owns the other half."

"Oh dear!" Chloe hurried over to the box and looked in, "Who would have forgotten to... wait! I did!"

Quickly writing her name down, she brought the half over to Clark who easily fit the two together.

"It's complete," he met her eyes warmly, "Finally."

"I'm sorry it was broken." she murmured, thinking of Alicia as he lead her onto the dance floor and pulled her into his arms.

"Hearts never break evenly," he said softly in her ear as they swayed in time with the music, "And every piece that breaks makes a new shape. Once in a lifetime you find someone who is a perfect fit. And that's you, Chloe. I love you, and it took a broken heart over first Lana and then Alicia to make me realize what a perfect fit we are. I'm sorry it took me so long."

Drawing back in surprise, Chloe looked into his eyes, searching for truth. The sincerity that she found brought warmth to her heart and a smile to her face.

"You aren't joking?" she whispered, still insecure.

"I've never been more serious in my life," he brought a hand up to cup her cheek tenderly, "I know it's taken me a long time to realize it, but I really do love you. Are you willing to give our relationship a shot?"

The overwhelming joy that flowed out of her face was his answer as he tilted his head down and their lips met in their first of many mutually intended kiss.

The End

. . . .

*Happy sigh* They seriously should have given Chlark a chance back when it made sense!

I really hope that you enjoyed reading this story! :-) If you did, make sure you hit that little review button and let me know! :-)


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